Devil's Savior

CHAPTER 11

I don’t know who hates Monday mornings more—the teachers or the students. Not that it’s a competition. We can all equally hate the heralding of a new week equally.

This morning, after spending the weekend with Crosby, not all of it naked either, has a little bit of a spring in my step. I try and tone down the feeling of giddy joy inside of me to stop it from spilling from me and throwing rainbows and glitter all over everyone. No one wants to be confronted with someone too happy on a Monday morning.

And there is part of me that wishes the weekend never ended.

But that’s just because Crosby was intent on spoiling me and did an amazing fucking job of it as well. I barely lifted a finger as we spent time together talking, cuddling, grazing on some good snacks and food, and watching movies. The only time we had to leave the house was when he had Church and I got to spend that time with Wrenley at her house. I can’t remember the last time I had such a relaxing weekend.

I wasn’t thinking about the upcoming week. I wasn’t worried about how well my recovery was going. I wasn’t even trying to avoid the man who I didn’t want to admit I was falling for with every moment of care he gave me.

Now, I can’t deny the last thing any longer. Not after spending the weekend wrapped up in him.

The only problem with how much time we spent together was that nothing else sexual happened between us after he ate my pussy like I was a damn delicacy Friday night when we got back home after the party at the DSMC clubhouse. And I wanted more to happen. I wanted everything.

Now, after two days of teasing touches and closeness, I’m a horny mess. And work is the last place I want to feel on edge because I didn’t have Crosby’s cock filling me all weekend.

Which is why it’s a damn good thing no one really pays that much attention on Monday, everyone is too busy mourning the start of a new week. Because if anyone were to look at me for too long, I know they would see the sparkle in my eyes and the slight flush on my face.

I’ve tried to shake the memories of waking up in Crosby’s arms, naked with our bodies pressed together, on Saturday morning. Everything from the night before rushed back through my mind and my thighs squeezed together with every very erotic visual.

The way his eyes captured mine and wouldn’t let go of my gaze as he made me come on his tongue. The way his hands felt skimming over my skin with beautiful reverence. The way my entire body felt relaxed and at peace as he slid into bed behind me and wrapped his arms around me.

I wanted to keep my eyes closed for longer, unwilling to pop the bubble of peace I had found for the first time in so damn long. Crosby’s steady breathing at my back, his large form wrapped around me protectively, was like a lullaby and a tease all in one.

Did I press my ass back against his very hard cock? You better fucking believe I did.

“Watch it, Firefly,” the sexy rumble of his voice still laced with sleep had me freezing in place.

“I thought you were still asleep,” I rasped, not sounding nearly as good first thing in the morning as he did.

Because of course he oozes hot biker no matter the time of day.

He huffed out a rough chuckle and kissed along the column of my neck. “I’ve been awake for a while, but I couldn’t force myself to stop holding you.”

Yeah, I fucking melted at his confession while I marveled at how fucking sweet my big biker could be. My mind skittered to a stop at the thought of him really being mine.

I hadn’t allowed myself to claim him in such a way, even in my head, because it felt too intimate. And too close to the truth.

My body relaxed back against his without me meaning to and I realized just how true my thoughts were. I wanted to claim him. I wanted to be his and for him to be mine.

It’s exactly what he had been offering me since the moment we met, but I refused to recognize or acknowledge it. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want it.

I made a humming sound, not wanting to show him just how deeply his words touched me. His arms tightened around me, and my body reminded me that I wouldn’t be able to stay in his embrace much longer. Because my body was starting to insist on the use of a bathroom.

“So sweet first thing in the morning,” he murmured, his rough voice laced with amusement.

I huffed and rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. “I guess that’s what a good orgasm will get you,” I teased.

“Good?” I could hear incredulousness in that one word. His hands gripped my body, and he turned me gently before pulling me flush against him again. The way his dark eyes sparkled in the morning light was enthralling. With an arched eyebrow, he pushed, “Just good?”

“Sufficient, I suppose,” my voice was all prim and proper aloofness.

Instead of being offended that I wasn’t genuflecting at his feet, Crosby’s laugh lit up my heart and made it pound against the inside of my chest. I realized that I could get used to waking up next to him. And I wanted it to happen again and again.

Like for the rest of our lives.

I shook my head as the thought gripped me and wouldn’t let me go and the world around us spun. Suddenly, it was like I couldn’t take a deep enough breath and it was starting to freak me out which was not helping matters at all.

Crosby’s large hand cupped my cheeks, his dark eyes imploring me to get a fucking grip—but in a much kinder way. “Breathe, Firefly,” he coaxed me.

There was something incredibly steady and comforting in his eyes. I locked onto it and forced myself to forget everything else.

Like how we were moving incredibly fast after I spent so fucking long pushing him away and keeping distance between us. Like how I was already in so deep with him that the way he made me feel was like quicksand enveloping my waist and threatening my toros. Like how I knew I would already be ruined if this thing between us went South and all that time I spent trying to protect myself meant nothing.

“I’m right here, Sioux,” his voice was firm, but gentle, “I’m not going anywhere.”

I marveled at how it seemed like he could look into my eyes and see my greatest fears and weaknesses. But he didn’t use them against me. He wanted to allay them and make them strengths.

Suddenly, I could breathe again, and I had to fight the tears stinging the back of my eyes. “Sorry,” I rasped, “I don’t know what happened.”

The look he gave me was pure ‘you’re full of shit’. He whispered, so damn gentle with me, “You got scared and that’s okay.”

I wanted to deflect or, at least, tell him he was wrong, but I couldn’t. Because it would be a lie and I was done telling myself and him lies. I nodded slowly before burrowing my face into his chest because I needed the unrelenting support his broad chest offered without consequence or retribution.

I could have apologized. I could have tried to make an excuse. Both options felt too big. So I deflected.

“I need to pee,” I mumbled against his chest and felt the rumble of his chuckle more than I heard it.

His arms loosened around me slowly, like he was reluctant to let me go. I understood the feeling because I wasn’t exactly keen about climbing out of bed.

“After you’re done, you can come back and we can snuggle some more,” there was hope in his voice that had my heart clenching in my chest.

I had been pushing him away for so long, it had to leave some scars and uncertainty behind. Even for someone like Crosby who seemed larger than life and above being affected by the problems of mere mortals. But he’s still just a man.

“Then we can spend the weekend doing nothing and everything together,” he offered on a silver platter.

“Perfect,” I whispered against his skin, our nakedness only making the moment more intimate and intense.

His fingers ran though my hair with such gentleness that I knew I needed to take a moment to compose myself before the strength of my feelings forced their way past my lips and into the air around us. When he released me, I rolled away from him, unable to look at him because then he would see it in my eyes.

I escaped to the bathroom and got myself together as I did what needed to be done. I even brushed my teeth, cringing at the fact that I had fallen asleep the night before without doing any of my normal nighttime routine. Hell, I barely stopped a screech of surprise from escaping when I looked in the mirror and found my makeup still on and my hair a tangled mess, from the wicked orgasm he gave me and being on the back of my bike.

Then I remembered how he didn’t look at me like I was a horror show, even though I certainly felt like he should have. He looked at me with adoration and affection in his dark eyes. He looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Did I use his brush to straighten out my hair? Yup. Then I used what he had, which wasn’t much, to deal with as much of the leftover makeup as I could. I thought about slipping out of his bathroom to head to mine, but I also wanted to snuggle back in bed with him.

When I walked out of the bathroom, feeling only about fifty percent better about my appearance, his eyes lit up and my worries and insecurities vanished. He was propped up slightly against his massive, manly headboard. As his eyes roamed over my naked body, I found that I didn’t care if I looked like a hot mess. How could I when he looked at me as if he was in the presence of a goddess?

Once I was close enough, I didn’t give him the chance to pull me back into bed, I pounced. And then I snuggled into him like a cat who found the perfect spot where the sunlight bathed them in warmth and the space gave them immeasurable comfort.

As I walk down the hallway of the high school during my planning period, I stifle the grin that threatens to break free on my face. People would ask me questions if they found me grinning like a lovesick fool on a random Monday in the middle of the day. But it’s surprisingly difficult now that I’ve opened myself up to Crosby.

Could this really be my life? Could I float on a cloud more days than not? Could I find a way to chase away the loneliness I’ve been battling for a while now? Could I find a future that holds more than just satisfaction with my job?

Maybe. Just fucking maybe.

When I walk into the front office, I’m surprised to see the giant bouquet of native flowers that everyone from New Orleans knows. It’s a riot of gardenia and magnolia blooms with pops of color from Louisiana irises. I’ve barely entered the office and the scent from the bouquet has me wanting to step closer and bury my head between the petals.

The smile on Mrs. Bisby’s face is wide and filled with mischief when she notices me standing there and staring at the flowers. She chirps, “Aren’t they beautiful?”

“They are,” I agree, my voice soft as, for some strange reason, hope blooms in my chest.

My fingers itch to reach out and run along the petals to find out if they’re as soft as they look. I ball my hands into fists to stop myself. They might be gorgeous flowers, but they aren’t mine.

I shake my head and force myself to focus on the woman behind the reception desk. She’s been an angel since I was shot. She’s come down to my classroom to check on me at random times and always has a smile on her face and concern in her eyes whenever I talk to her.

Even though I’m friendly with quite a few teachers here, I would call Mrs. Bisby a friend. She’s been a huge support and cheerleader throughout my recovery. You could tell she was asking about it because she genuinely wanted to know instead of being polite.

“I just came down to grab my mail since I didn’t have a chance to do it this morning before classes started,” I keep my voice light and breezy as I smile and move to where the cubbies are that act as mail and communication boxes for the teachers here.

“Considering the way you’re glowing, I don’t need to ask if you had a good weekend,” Mrs. Bisby says from behind me, and I keep my back to her, so she won’t see the smile that lights up my face or the slight blush on my cheeks.

Yeah, a very good weekend, but my coworker—and a woman old enough to be my mother—doesn’t need to know exactly how good or why. Nope. Not going there with her.

“Yup,” I agree brightly as I grab the items in my little cubby. “And the best part was that I just stayed in.”

Not a lie.

“That’s good, dear.” She pauses as I start to look through the few things in my box, not wanting to take anything that might be junk back to my classroom. “How are you feeling? How is PT?” I can hear a bit of scorn in her voice as she adds on, “Is Devin still pushing you too hard?”

When I turn back around, Mrs. Bisby is giving me a knowing look. Well, that is after my eyes immediately go to the flowers and I force myself to look away.

I sigh and admonish her, “He never pushed me too hard. I was just being a whiny baby about it all. He’s pushed me just the right amount and it was what I needed him to do.” She scowls slightly, but before she can curse Devin, again, I add on, “I have an appointment with my doctor this week and he should be signing off on my full recovery which means I’ll be done with physical therapy.”

The happy dance that she does in her seat has me grinning from ear to ear. My heart swells with gratitude for this woman. She claps her hands, her voice pure fucking joy, “That’s wonderful!”

I swear if she had pom-poms she would be shaking them right now. And doesn’t everyone need someone like that in their corner? More than one, preferably.

I glance back at the flowers and then look away quickly. Amusement dances in her words as she asks, “Aren’t you curious about who they’re for?”

I shake my head, not wanting to deal with feelings of jealousy over any of my coworkers getting such a beautiful bouquet. One that has me dreaming of steamy New Orleans nights infused with the history and grandeur of a city that has always been my home.

I clear my throat and give her a cheeky grin. “I figured they were for you,” I tease her.

With a slight blush on her cheeks, she shakes her head slowly. “Oh, no dear. They aren’t for me. Honestly, they were delivered just minutes before you walked in, and I didn’t have the chance to call down to the teacher who received them.”

My heart starts to pound in my chest. They were sent to a teacher.

But that doesn’t mean they’re for me. Even if I wish they were.

“I have to say that I’m glad you stopped in because it saved me from having to send word to you that you got some flowers waiting for you in the office,” her tone turns sly.

I rush toward the bouquet, barely stopping myself from jumping up and down. “Are you serious? They’re so gorgeous,” I gush.

“They really are,” she agrees. “I was tempted not to let you know of their arrival until the end of the day so I could enjoy them for a little while longer,” she teases me.

I grin at her before I spot the card and pull it free from the mass of flowers and greenery. My heart knows who they’re from before I even open the card, but I want to see what he said anyway.

Just to see you smile, Firefly.

~ C

I press the card to my chest and find myself falling a little bit more in love with the man who has stood by my side during some of the darkest days of my life. How could I not?

“Good card?”

My eyes snap to Mrs. Brisby, and I nod like a bobble head on the dashboard of a car finding all the potholes. “The best,” I whisper.

“Ah, young love.” Her eyes soften as she looks at me and gives a decisive nod. “You deserve it. You make sure to hold tight.”

“I will,” I vow and realize just how true the words are as they slip past my lips.

I straighten up and glance back at the card, smiling again with his simple message. Crosby is a man of action, not necessarily words, but he still has a knack for saying exactly the right thing at exactly the right time.

“I’m going to leave these here for now,” I tell her. She starts to shake her head in protest, but I hold my hand up, not wanting to hear it. “I want you to enjoy them for the rest of the day and it’ll be easier for me to carry them out to my car from here than my classroom anyway.”

I give her a wave and am out the door before she can say anything to the contrary. I float the entire way down the hallway too.

Thoughts of how I can show Crosby my gratitude for thinking of me and making me smile flash through my mind. I won’t be able to put any of those naughty thoughts into action until tonight, but that doesn’t stop me from sending him a text to thank him for the flowers.

And, yes, I’m smiling the entire time.